Foxy's Tale
by D the Fox
Summary: Foxy the Pirate Fox feels he has been forgotten. This rather short story deals with his thoughts and expressions as a result of his feelings. There's nothing much more to this story, but it does add to his characterization, somewhat.


**Author's Rant: I had been thinking about writing a Foxy the Pirate story for awhile now, but had no idea where to go with it, without detracting from the actual character or defacing his image. This story is inspired by (or should I say _based on_ or _ripped off of_ ) the _Five Nights at Freddy's_ song _Noticed_ by MandoPony. If you enjoy this story and have not heard this song, I recommend you listen to it on YouTube. Trust me, in my opinion, it's definitely better than my story.**

 **Rant over, enjoy!**

* * *

 **Foxy's Tale**

-He stood behind his curtain, ever watching. Hearing. Waiting. Never moving, never breathing. Ever wanting.

-Watching them play. Watching them sing. Watching them dance.

-Children loved _them_. Always, children loved _them._ They never loved _him,_ never him, never paid him any mind. They simply ignored him.

-The children never cared about him until after someone had released his Toy twin. And then, they had torn him apart. They had torn his twin apart, left him mangled and winding away.

-Why didn't the children ever want to be with him? Around him? Why did they leave him locked away?

-Did he do something? Something he couldn't remember?

-He hoped not.

-Watching the bear and the bunny and the chick, he felt anger.

-Children were laughing at them, laughing with them, singing along with those same songs he had heard his entire life. He knew the songs. He could play. He could sing. He had sung the same songs under his breath his entire life. Or what memory of his entire life he had. Honestly, after he had been torn apart once before, he had had trouble remembering things.

-But he could sing! He was certain of that.

-Maybe they would let him sing. If he just showed them that he could.

-He nudged his way closer to the curtain.

-He could feel his breath, acidic and oily, against it. Smelled it.

-His heart hurt. He could feel it ticking and burning, oily black smoke pouring around it. He could see it burning and fuming through the gashes across his chest. He couldn't remember where they had come from, but paid it little mind.

-On occasion, he felt as if he were about to catch fire. Like he might spontaneously combust. Well, it wouldn't _quite_ be spontaneous. There would be warning, he thought. Like a heart attack, or a seizure, there would be signs before his rage sparked and he blazed.

-A nearby vent kicked on, drawing the smoking oily poison from his body. His body grew cool and he felt the physical burning subside. Like a narrowly missed stroke, or grand mal.

-The singing too, came to an end.

-Laughing. Screaming. Laughing. Singing. The sounds were dying.

-But no, the show wasn't over. The show couldn't be over. It was too early. The show wasn't over. The show never ended this early. Ever.

-He felt pain. The show was over, no, that couldn't be right. No, the show couldn't be over.

-Something must have happened. Something important must have happened. That was the only explanation.

-After all, they weren't senselessly cruel enough to stop the show from him. The only thing he had. The show, a sort of religious figure for him. A religious concept, the Show. They wouldn't take that away from him. No one was senselessly cruel enough to take that away from him.

-Unless they were.

-He didn't know.

-It made sense. They had left him away. Locked away behind a curtain in Pirate's Cove. Somehow, they must've found out how much he desired, no how much he _yearned_ for the Show. Now, they were taking it from him. The one thing he had left. They were taking it from him.

-Crying. He hadn't noticed that he was crying, slick isopropyl tears. He felt the rust around his eyes flake and peel, pulling back and exposing the bolts and iron plates beneath.

-As much as it hurt him, he couldn't hold back the tears. He wanted to, but couldn't. Not after what they had just done. They had taken everything from him before, but he had found something new in his sad life. And now it was gone.

-For whatever reason, they had done this to him. What reason? He didn't know. He had never done anything to them. Never, to his memory.

-But it didn't matter. For whatever reason, whether there was one or not, this was his life now.

-Maybe… Just maybe…

-Something had occurred to him, that there was a new sound outside his Pirate's Prison. He hadn't noticed it before. Had simply not noticed.

-Silence. Crying and screaming, but it had faded to silence. Only voices saying things he couldn't hear, but silence, still.

-The children had somehow grown silent. Clearly, something had happened.

-Something happened.

-Something happened.

-Something happened.

-He caught something, a line of random nonsense that to him meant nothing. A single echoed line of _"I made him kiss Fredbear and…"_ , then it broke off and he heard a loud sob echo.

-Yes, the Show had stopped, because something had happened.

-But still, the Show _had_ ended. That had happened.

-It was unforgivable for them to end the one thing he had left. No reason was excusable. No reason was excusable for this last act against him.

-No matter what had happened, he would have revenge. Revenge against this last atrocity. Yes, he would have his revenge.

- _Revenge._

-What a lovely word! He loved the sound of it, the thought of it. The taste of it.

-Oh yes, revenge, revenge, revenge.

-A scuffling sound, someone moving past. No, not past. The scuffling stopped. The moving had stopped. Right in front of him. In front of that curtain.

-"Hello?"

-A little boy's voice in front of his curtain.

-"Someone there?"

-A small little boy's voice.

"Dad, what's behind the curtain?"

-Calmly, he heard another voice. Deeper, adult.

-"Pirate's Cove. Foxy the Pirate used to live there. I don't know if he still does, or not. I hope so. I always used to love Foxy, when I came here."

-What? What was that? Those words in his voice _"I always used to love Foxy,"_ did he really here them?

-"Who's Foxy?"

-No. No no no. They couldn't be talking about him. There must be some other _Foxy_ they were talking about.

-"Growing up, he had been my best friend. I had had a Foxy plush and everything. He was always my favorite!"

-Favorite! Someone knew him! Someone liked him!

-"Can I look? I wanna see for myself!"

-Someone wanted to see him!

-"Sure, no one's looking. Go ahead! You can have a peak."

-A crack of light in the curtain. A child poking his little head in.

-The curtains filtered the light, causing him to appear purple. His eyes wide and expressive, but not an expression of fear, or fright, or sadness, or disgust, or any of those other emotions. Of wonder. The child saw him and his expressive eyes were filled with light and hope.

-Those same emotions were held in his own eyes.

-"WOW!" the Child whispered, "COOL!"

-Another head poked in, this that of an adult man. Possibly the Child's father. Also bathed in filtered purple light.

-"Still here? Yeah, I'd always wondered what had happened to him. Oh well, come along. Don't wanna get in trouble with the authorities, do we?"

-"What's going on out there, anyway?"

-"I don't know. I think there was an accident of some kind. Come along."

-The two pulled their heads back out and slid the curtain closed.

-Foxy looked in wonder at the closed curtain. Hopeful.

-That purple-lit Child and his purple-lit Father had wanted to see him. A tear rolled down his muzzle. He could feel the tracks soaking into his circuits, but he didn't care.

-Right as he had been about to end things, he had heard the one thing he had needed to hear. That people still knew of him. That people still liked him. That people still loved him.

-Foxy the Pirate thought of how, just moments ago, he had been ready to take revenge on the people who had imprisoned him. But maybe, he had been wrong. People liked him, that's all that mattered.

-At that moment, the Show didn't matter, as it had before. At that moment, he didn't care if the Show went on. He didn't care, because people liked him. And that was enough for him.

-As his tears leaked into his circuits, he didn't care that his body was starting to smoke. He cried, silent, happy tears and smoke poured from his open chest cavity. He felt his servos lock, circuits frying, body ceasing to function.

-But he was happy. Because people liked him.

-And as he faded, he loved that Purple Boy and his father. He told himself that if he could, he would help them do anything. Because, even as he was dying, they had given him his life back.

-He vowed especially to help the Purple Man, should he need it.

-If Foxy came back, he would help the Purple Man. It was the least he could do.

-A passing customer smelled the smoke from behind Pirate's Cove and reported it to a Fazbear's Pizzeria Employee.

* * *

-They stopped the fire before it spread out, uncontrollably. They had been able to save the animatronic fox behind it, which many of the workers had admittedly, completely forgotten about.

-Foxy was patched up and set up on stage, to the viewing pleasure of those who had and had not known about the fourth Fazbear Friend.

-The children loved Foxy the Pirate Fox.

-Foxy the Pirate Fox loved the children. He loved his new life. Singing with the others.

* * *

-When the Purple Man had begun his reign of terror, Foxy had not forgotten how his love had essentially saved him and given him new life.

-When the Purple Man had begun his reign of terror, Foxy helped.

-He owed the Purple Man that much. He owed the Purple Man that much, at least.


End file.
